


Graying

by MarsupialsOfMars



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsupialsOfMars/pseuds/MarsupialsOfMars
Summary: From the initial split at childhood all the way through present day, a collection of days in the life of Remus as we get to know why he is how he is now, and how he got his white streak.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	Graying

**Author's Note:**

> Archived from tumblr, one of my favorite things I've ever written!

Creativity woke up in a cold sweat. Creativity also woke up in a cold sweat. They looked at one another. That wasn’t right. Wrong. bad. The mindscape felt conflicted, and everyone was looking at him. At them. One thought rang in Creativity’s mind, something that had been there before he woke up. He smiled and shouted:

“Poopyhead!”

“No!” Virgil squealed and covered his ears.

Creativity’s face fell. It came back to him. He’d been just one person, moments before. Five year old Thomas was arguing with his mom and needed something to call her, because she was being very unfair. No dessert, she’d said, and that wasn’t fair. Deceit had said so. So Creativity had made up the perfect name.

“Poopyhead!”

“NO!” Everyone had yelled at him at once, and it hurt his ears, and his head.

“We’ll get in trouble!”

“That’s really mean!”

“We definitely won’t get dessert!”

Virgil, then Patton, then Logan, all hated his idea, and it hurt, and it hurt more, until he felt his brain tear apart. And he woke up in two pieces. The sides all grouped around Creativity, but not him. The other one. The one with the name. The name that Creativity himself didn’t feel like he had anymore. Around Roman. Roman was bright red again, not the icky pukey color he’d been fading into recently. The gross color that happened when you color a green marker over a red marker. He must have gotten the green marker out of him. With that thought, Creativity looked down at himself. He felt his heart fall into his stomach. He was the green marker. The ruiner. His bangs fell into his face, and a flash of silver caught his eye. One grey hair. And Thomas didn’t say “poopyhead”. Instead he said;

“I’ll make you a drawing for it!”

9/20/97

Remus hung his head off the edge of the top bunk, playing with his costume’s few new baubles and frills, watching Roman scribble furiously. Thomas had been assigned a Young Author’s book, a story he had to write all by himself. It was very exciting, but Roman had insisted he would do it himself. From what Remus could tell he was basing it off of The Little Mermaid. Remus usually stayed quiet at this point, whispers or nothing, his pinch of silver hair a constant reminder of the pain of daring to contribute. But he had such a good idea, and Thomas wouldn’t be the best writer in the class without it!

“Flounder gets eaten by an eel! And he dies!”

Roman spun to look up at him in horror and disgust. “NO! It’s my story and that’s not what happens!”

And Remus heard shouts around the mind as Thomas experienced the thought, and though distant, he heard them all clear as day.

“That’s so sad, nooo!”

“We’d get in trouble with the teacher!”

“We definitely wont win if we get disqualified!”

Again, sharp pain, stabbing into his head, pressure, squeezing, piercing. He gripped his head and whined.

“Fine! Do it your way! Fartface!” He pouted as another sandy hair drained of color. He decided it was best to just stay quiet no matter what.

4/5/01

Remus played with his hair, again trying to pluck the greys only to have another immediately grow back in their place. Still, he’d developed an enjoyment of the zap of pain at each pluck, escalating to tearing out larger chunks of hair and scratching tick tac toes into his thighs, watching the white marks fade to dark pink. It was something to do when nobody liked him, nobody wanted to talk to him, when a part of the mind wasn’t allowed to do his job. He giggled and turned his attention to his new outfit, now a bit more glittery, frilly, crazy. He felt it was missing something. Before he could determine what, he was called to attention. Thomas was upset. He joined the others down in the common area to view what the body was doing. Thomas stood in front of one of his friends, Hannah maybe. Remus didn’t care to keep track, why would he if he wasnt allowed to interact with them? But she wasn’t being very friendly. She was yelling, something not true that she thought Thomas did, that he hit her maybe. She was saying she would tell the teacher. Patton was trying to reason and pacify, Deceit was ranting about how unfair it all was, Virgil was on the verge of tears. Roman was trying to find a way out of it, but to no avail. Remus growled. Thomas was upset, and he had an idea to help him. And he would say it, no matter the pain he knew would come with it, because nobody else was helping. He cleared his throat, almost rusty from lack of use after committing to being selectively mute for nearly four years now, squeaky and grating and unfamiliar. He pushed to the middle of the group and yelled, the group all startling at the new voice;

“KICK HER TEETH OUT!”

And the room went silent a moment. And Remus felt something. acknowledgment. Thomas winced. Thomas had heard him. Thomas had thought his thought. And that euphoria carried Remus through the onslaught of reprimanding by the others, the headache and the pain, and the three grey hairs that sprouted at once. He was all but shoved back into his room, in a blur. Rather than laying down (in his bed now fully across the room from Roman’s), he conjured a little eleven year old girl, with a very kickable face. And he kicked her teeth out. And there was blood, and it felt good. He took the handful of teeth, thinking over his recent dissatisfaction with his outfit. He took some superglue, and bedazzled his uniform with the bloodied, bony gems. He felt better. This felt better. If merely kicking a stranger felt that cathartic… He conjured a Patton, then a Logan, a Virgil, a Roman and a Deceit for good measure. And finally a knife. And he used it. And he felt so, so much better, his vocal cords aching from sudden use as he laughed, and hollered his battle cries. Blood, so much blood of all colors of the rainbow. And he was loud, because he wanted to be, because he wasn’t ever allowed to be this loud before, and because he wasn’t ever allowed, he wanted to be. He wanted to be LOUD. He was so loud that he couldn’t hear the footsteps approaching his door, that he couldn’t hear the click of the latch, that he could barely hear his brother’s scream of horror upon entering the room. Barely.

10/20/04

Remus ran circles around Deceit, trying to annoy him into submission, his tassels and sequins and beads jingling against his oufit as he danced about. He grabbed his friend’s shoulders, shaking him, wrapping him in mucus laden tentacles and threatening disgusting and/or violent methods of persuasion. Deceit just calmly shook his head through it all.

“I can’t allow that, and I’ll continue to say it, your whining isn’t as tough on my resolve as you think it is. I live with you. You’re forgetting that most of these aren’t really threats as much as typical weekday activities.”

“Come OOON! He wants it, you want it, Roman and Patton wont admit it but OH how they want it-”

“NO. You don’t think high school is hard enough already without that on his plate? He’d get torn to shreds! Chewed up and spit out! But clearly you dont care about his wellbeing…”

Remus felt as if a sword had been plunged through his chest. “I DON’T CA-?! Is that what you think of me?! I want him to be happy, and what would make him REAL happy is getting himself some dick!”

Deceit winced. “REMUS ENOUGH. Not the time, Not the place! End of conversation!”

Remus scoffed in disbelief. “LOOK at me! Look at Roman! You can’t look at us with a straight face and think ‘yep, straight, end of conversation’!”

“I’m not SAYING he’s straight, I’m saying he doesn’t need to know otherwise right now!”

“And wrapping it all up in some pussy with a little gift bow on top for when he’s old enough to regret never being raw and honest with himself is better for him?!”

“He’s in high school, he has a lot on his plate, we don’t have the time or emotional stability for 'raw and honest!!!’”

Remus’s face was hot and red, he sputtered out what could have been words if he wasn’t so infuriated.

“FINE. That IS what you would want wouldn’t it be DECEIT?!” He turned on his heel.

“Don’t you 'Deceit’ me! You know my name!”

“You’re right! Maybe if you ever try a tactic other than repression and lies I’ll try it out! As it stands, I’m taking this into my own hands! Oh! That rhymed!” Remus giggled.

Deceit threw up his hands. “Try! I dare you! You know what happens!”

“Oh of course I know! You all gang up and torture me for every suggestion I make! But that doesn’t keep me from making them! Watch me! I like the pain! I’ll jerk it to that shit if it means I get my ideas out! You can watch, I won’t mind, but if you’d rather finally stay out of my way and let me do my job I’d take that too!”

It was Deceit’s turn to flush with rage. But Remus didn’t stick around to watch. He sprinted up to the main area and looked out the eyes of the body. And there he was. A boy, tall and tan and gorgeous, one lunch table away. Thomas was staring. Remus had one shot to bust through. He took a breath and spoke softly;

“It’s just you and me Thomas. Nobody else knows what you need right now. But I do. And I want you to be happy. I always have.” He cleared his throat, thinking suave, thinking tact. He paused. The others could block out tact couldn’t they? He needed something loud and awful. He needed Thomas to start thinking, just to consider. He was better at loud and awful anyway.

The boy stretched, arms behind his head, his shirt lifting just enough to show a glimpse of his abs. Remus drooled. Perfect.

“BEND HIM OVER THAT TABLE AND FUCK HIM HERE AND NOW!”

Thomas choked, the bite of sandwich he’d just taken suddenly tasting sour and mushy in his mouth.

Remus felt the onslaught of reprimands coming at him from all directions.

“That’s not right!”

“What would our parents say?!”

“We can’t afford to think about this right now!”

His brain ached, his stomach turned, he felt as if needles were plunging into his skull from all angles. A folicle drained of pigment. But he was beaming. Thomas was thinking. And Deceit was useless to stop him. He felt arms grab him from behind, restraining his legs, his arms, keeping him from whipping his head back to dislocate a jaw. Six arms.

“How fun! My bestest friend came to watch after all! How’s the repression going hm? Why arent you cutting him off? Why is he THINKING?” Remus teased as the pounding in his head only got louder and heavier, and two more hairs lost color. He suddenly felt fangs in his neck, piercing deep, venom seeping into his bloodstream. Remus moaned. “Deceit! I forgot you were into-” The effort of speaking became too much, his jaw exhausting with the rest of him.

The venom, which Remus had so lovingly taken to calling “dreamkiller”, had a tendency to put him to sleep, killing his suggested train of thought almost instantly.

Remus watched Thomas start to hum to distract himself as he drifted off. Thomas’s train of thought could die. That was fine. Because it would not be forgotten. He could be shut down, hurt, repressed, all they wanted to repress him. But now he could be heard. He could get through when he wanted. He could intrude. And that was all he needed.

4/3/09

Remus leapt like a trained ballerina about his pigsty of a room, twirling with ax in hand, gleefully slaughtering actual pigs. He was in a good mood, because Thomas was in a good mood. Thomas was eating lunch outside, leaned up against a cement campus building warmed by sun, his boyfriend by his side. They were chatting about majors, clearly a Logan-centric conversation, but Roman and Patton were also apparently hard at work with the amount of puppy love and flirting going on between the lines. Remus delighted in knowing he had a part in it, no matter how small it really was. The flint to the fire maybe.

The happy mood suddenly shifted into something less nice. Remus huffed. What went wrong? He made his way up to the main area, dripping with blood. Thomas was saying his goodbyes. He had a class to go to. Remus pouted. They were having such a good time! He pushed between Logan, Patton, and Roman.

“Remus? What could you possibly want to do?!” Roman grabbed for Remus’s sash but he shook him off.

“We’re merely parting for class, leaving this conversation to be resumed at a later time. I pose the same question.” Logan didn’t bother to try to stop Remus but looked at him quizzically.

“Fuck school. Just getting something out of my system.” Remus readied himself. The others braced, Patton and Roman attempting to pull him back.

“DISEMBOWEL THE PROFESSOR! GOUGE HIS EYES OUT WITH YOUR PENCILS AND CRUSH HIS SKULL WITH YOUR OVERPRICED TEXTBOOKS! BATHE IN HIS BLOOD!”

“Jesus christ!” Roman tackled him to the ground. “Where did that come from?!” Patton held his hands over his mouth in shock. Even Logan seemed queasy.

Once again as usual, pressure in his brain, stabbing, burning, gut-twisting as they scolded. Two hairs lost pigment. Nearly all of his bangs were white at this point. He barely noticed the stress on his body anymore, he was used to it. Not that it didnt hurt.

“I HATE class. It’s no fun!”

Roman lifted him over his shoulder and began marching him down to his room, the others following.

“Everybody hates class!” Logan began to speak but Roman cut him off. “Everyone but Logan. But that was WAY too extreme! You need to chill! You’ve been getting worse and worse, especially since classes started! what is UP with you?!”

Remus would have spoken if he’d known the answer. He thought back. His contributions HAD been more explicit and exciting recently. Maybe Thomas was just maturing and taking his thoughts with him. But he had been doing it more and more, suggesting bigger and bigger things. Everything about him was more extreme, had been getting more extreme over all of Thomas’s years. His oufit, his ideas, his casual day to day actions… his gray streak. He brought his hand to his bangs. Buildup. That was what. Roman dumped him into his room.

“Whatever it is, figure it out. Thomas is stressed out already, he doesnt need your wicked suggestions.”

“He doesn’t need them, but arent they exciting?!” Remus grinned before the door was slammed in his face.

He sighed and got up, with a bit of difficulty considering the slick pig guts across his carpet, and flopped onto his bed. He played with his attempted facial hair for a moment, the few hairs he insisted would one day form a magnificent moustache to be jealous of, no matter all of Logan’s insistence that Thomas didnt have the hair-growing capacity. It was coming along well enough. He considered his life. Thomas’s resolve to be family friendly, to be a “good person” inside and out, every thought he had. But he was twenty, Remus should have some say over his creativity. But every suggestion was either too violent, too gross, too X-rated, according to the others. But he couldn’t help it. He had to be loud and awful, it was the only way he got through. He would have loved if the others let him be the half of creativity he could be, but as it stood to this point, he had to intrude. He was conditioned to intrude. It was what he knew. And thinking about it, he wasn’t sure he would be able to just be “bad creativity” anymore. He was retitled, the way Logan referred to him. Intrusive thoughts. And he liked that, he was his own entity, not just Roman’s brother, not just the twin as his name entailed. He could do something that made a difference, that made Thomas stop in his tracks, and sweat, and panic, and question. An override. Everything stopped for his ideas. He liked that. But he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if it didn’t hurt so bad. What he would have become.

But he liked what he did. He loved it. Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d believe it. That always seemed to work for Thomas, didn’t it?

6/26/19

Remus could hardly breathe. He must have heard wrong.

“I can what?”

“I’m letting you out, you get to join the group with Thomas tomorrow. They’re meeting for a video. I need you to do your worst, prove to Thomas that there are things worth hiding from himself. He wants to be more honest with himself and more 'direct’ in dealing with his issues. I’m stepping back. I won’t deceive him about the ugliness within him if he doesn’t want me to. He’s on his own.”

Ouch. Not the best mission for his ego. But if he agreed he got revealed. Thomas would see him. Thomas would know him.

“DEAL!” He hopped from foot to foot. “I need to prepare! I’ll be on my worst behavior, you can count on me!”

“I always know i can.”

Bullshit. A clear lie, but Remus felt it was best not to antagonize Deceit while he was prone to changing his mind.

“They sing right?! I’m gonna write a song!” He immediatly started brainstorming, an introduction, everything he wanted Thomas to know about him.

Deceit sighed. “You dont have to write-”

“I will! I’m writing a song and it’ll be better than anything Roman has ever sang! Anything anyone has ever sang! Watch me! If I can get Thomas sleep deprived, I could probably force them all into nightmare mode! Choreographed! It’s going to be CHOREOGRAPHED!” He twirled excitedly, squealing with delight, his frills flying up in a tornado of sparkles.

“Don’t lose sight of why you’re there. Convince him that you need to be hidden, don’t let yourself or anyone else distract you.”

“Yeah yeah, I get it- OH I get to stand in Roman’s spot don’t I?! And I can GET RID of him from said spot?!”

“Yes, but don’t get distracted!”

“I won’t OKAY?! I’ll do my disgusting, smelly, loud, ugly thing okay?! But let me have fun! That’s where I thrive!”

Deceit paused before nodding. “I can not argue with that. You’ll need to set up the conversation. I promise-” Deceit held his hands up to prove his fingers weren’t crossed. “-that I won’t work to repress you tonight. Say whatever you’d like, don’t let anyone stop you. Wear them down.”

Easy for him to say, he’d never had to continue a train of thought while being attacked from all sides, feeling like his brain was about to explode. But Remus could take it. It sounded like a lot of fun, an opportunity to have Thomas think his thoughts for a whole night rather than a minute or two. He had some ideas and opinions to share anyway.

“That whole wedding situation is pretty fucked up isn’t it?”

Deceit groaned. “Tell me about it.”

“What if instead of worrying about their feelings…” He twisted his moustache in consideration. “We stab both Lee and Mary-Lee twenty-three times each in the chest and leave them to bleed out in the bathtub?”

Deceit cringed. “That would do it. Talk their ears off about that. Remember, the point is that I won’t be involved. Traumatize to your little blackened heart’s content.”

Remus nodded. “Got it.” He thought a moment. “Holy shit, I get THEME MUSIC don’t I?!”

Deceit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just… go do your thing.”

“Aye-Aye!”

Remus spent the rest of the night up until Thomas went to bed writing his song, practicing his social skills, warming up his voice, making sure he was as entertainingly unlikable as possible. Sure he had to do Deceit’s dirty work, but he wanted Thomas to understand him, in whatever way he could be understood. And he would be loud.

Loud for Thomas to hear.

6/28/19

Deceit pounded on the door. “Remus come on! Tell me what happened up there!”

Remus curled in his crumb and stain-ridden bed, exhausted. He groaned and unlocked the door with a flip of his wrist. Deceit slithered in, artfully dodging all the slimy and sharp things strewn across the floor; bear traps, the occasional boar dropping, etcetera.

“So? It clearly didn’t go well.”

“I dunno scales-for-sale, didn’t it? I wasn’t paying attention, you can have the honor of telling me cause I’m unsure.”

“Well it didn’t go my way.”

“Nothing ever does, huh?” Remus smirked. He took some solace in someone other than himself having so much trouble with the others. He smacked his lips loudly. “My mouth tastes like deodorant…”

Deceit rolled his eyes. “Good for you. I’m so jealous.”

“I know right?!”

“So what did you do wrong?” He squinted accusingly. Remus gasped, offended.

“Who’s to say I did anything wrong?!”

“It was a pretty damn simple task! Be yourself, annoy and horrify everyone in your general vicinity!”

“Maybe they’re all just amazingly difficult! You can vouch for that cant you?”

Deceit huffed. “I suppose that’s believable… who threw it off then?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Logan. Dull one with the star fetish?”

“I’m aware who Logan is.”

Remus layed his head back and threw his hands up. “He convinced Thomas that I’m irrelevant! That my contributions are nothing, that they don’t mean anything to him! To IGNORE me!”

Deceit considered. “So how did that fail me in my efforts?”

“He convinced Thomas that repression doesn’t work, that intrusive thoughts don’t mean anything and that if he let them pass on without beating himself up about them, or without Patton and Virgil beating him up, that he’d be healthier! Just ignore me is what he said!”

Deceit growled, only succeeding in pacifying himself by taking a long breath in through his nose. “Okay then. Plan C.”

“Easy for you to just move right along! My life is ruined! Thomas will never consider anything I say again! If I try to say anything he’ll just brush me off! Without stopping, without sweating, without panicking, without trying to-” Remus stopped. He’d forgotten to consider. “…Without trying to… REPRESS me…” He felt his spirits rise, felt his hopes shoot up like fireworks, crackling warm and explosive in his chest. He bolted upright.

“Okay, you go do your Plan C, I have an experiment to conduct!”

Deceit left the room deep in thought. “Mhm just don’t set anything on fire this time…”

Remus grinned and jumped out of bed. He sprinted up to the main area. Patton and Virgil were already there, assisting Thomas in helping a friend clean some gutters. His friend was on a ladder, a tippy, terrifying ladder. Patton was praising Thomas for holding the ladder steady while Virgil was passionately explaining the repercussions of failing to do so. Being jailed for manslaughter and the like.

Remus popped up between them, startling them both to momentary screams before they recognized him.

“Remus!” Patton crossed his arms. “Give a little warning at least!

"Hey! Mind if I sneak a few words in? Good! Me neither!” He ducked under Patton and Virgil’s attempts to keep him back. “We’re all friends here now, right? No need for all that! Just saying my piece. my worthless piece as Mr. Peabuddy would call it!”

Virgil was staring daggers at him but backed off. Patton was a bit more hesitant, but complied.

“See? We’re getting along like nobody’s business!” Remus beamed at the lack of force needed to find a good spot. He cleared his throat.

“SHAKE HIM OFF THE LADDER AND DELIGHT IN THE CRUNCH OF HIS SHATTERING BONES!”

Remus braced himself. He looked from Virgil to Patton, both their faces drawn taut and restrained and their hands balled into white-knuckled fists. They weren’t scolding him. And it didn’t hurt. No headache, no stomach turning, no sharp stabbing pains. He reached for his bangs. His unchanged, just as grey as before bangs. His breath caught in his throat. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any better:

“Remus, bud, could you calm down?” Thomas mumbled under his breath. Remus froze. His name. That was his name. Thomas knew him. Thomas heard him, and Thomas let him speak. “You don’t have to yell, you know. I’m not doing that anyway so save your voice. I can hear you just fine.”

Remus blinked. Should he respond?

“But if I don’t yell… how will I KNOW you can hear me?”

“Nobody’s talking over you now are they?”

Remus fell silent. He looked back at Virgil and Patton, neither of whom were trying to drown him out. Thomas seemed to take that as his cue to stop talking to himself. Remus took a few hesitant steps backward and let the other two take back their places. Thomas hadn’t done what he suggested. He hadn’t stopped, or panicked, or begun to sweat. By all means this was the last thing Remus had told himself that he’d want. But he’d been heard. He’d been HEARD. And he hadn’t been punished for it. He was part of Thomas, according to Thomas. Maybe not how he’d pictured it, but it felt so wonderful. It was a wonderful thing to be. With his experiment concluded, he stumbled absentmindedly back down the hall, lost in thought. He bumped into Roman halfway down, throwing him off gaurd. He conjured an array of weapons as reflex upon identifying his obstacle. Roman drew his sword.

“Wicked twin of mine, we meet again!”

“Aw, I love this little back and forth we’ve got! We’re such a cute pair.” Remus sharpened back into normality. With a snap he arranged his weapons onto a colorful lottery wheel. “Take a spin, pick me a winner, I’m not partial to any one of these goodies!”

Roman grabbed Remus’s shoulder instead, an unsettlingly familial gesture that Remus wasn’t quite accustomed too. The wheel vanished, leaving the weapons to clatter to the ground before they too vanished one by one. Roman sheathed his sword. He sighed.

“Wait, while I’ve got you here, I’ve been meaning to talk to you… well it wasn’t my choice really, but Joan and Thomas have been planning this new song, about a gay Disney prince?”

Remus clapped his fingertips, responding in a cheery tone: “Oh how exciting! Fuck you! I thought we agreed that you don’t get to let me in on these things if you don’t ever plan on letting me help! What a fun fun example of something I’d theoretically adore! I’ll kill you! Not even going to hesitate!” He summoned a dagger into his hand.

“I know, I know, calm down a sec Trashley Olsen! That’s the point.”

“Hm?” Remus lowered his weapon.

“Thomas wanted me to…” Roman groaned. “This project, there are bits where he wants to go a bit less family friendly. Since yesterday he’s been considering being more… ADULT in his content. To 'challenge his viewership’ as you put it. So…” Roman avoided eye contact.

Remus let the dagger fall to the floor, unconsciously leaning forward in anticipation. This had to be a joke. He couldn’t possibly mean… “So…?”

Roman took a deep, frustrated breath. “So we’re working on a project. Together. For the channel.”

Remus nearly blacked out. He was suddenly on his knees without any memory of falling, his face was suddenly wet and salty without memory of how. He was shaking, and crying, and so, SO incredibly happy.

“Woah, woah, woah!” He felt Roman grab his shoulders, knelt in front of him though Remus could hardly see through the watery euphoria. “What’s going on?”

“Twist my arm why dontcha?!” Remus broke into a fit of giggles, slumping against Roman. Roman rubbed the back of his shoulder awkwardly, unsure of how to react, which only made Remus laugh harder.

“So you’re in? Or…” Roman tried to discreetly pull away, only to be restrained in a bundle of tentacles.

“I AM, TO INFINITE AND UNIMAGINABLE EXTENTS, IN!” He lifted Roman off the ground and twirled him about before tossing him back off in the direction of his room. He sprinted, twirled and danced merrily back to his own room, passing Deceit on the way, nearly barreling into him.

“What’s gotten into you?!”

Remus gripped his bangs and called back to him: “LIFE!”

He cannonballed onto his bed, unfurling into an exhausted starfish. Life. New life. Creativity. Not Intrusive Thoughts, not Bad Creativity, but CREATIVITY. He finally had a job, a purpose, an outlet. And he could be as loud as he wanted. But maybe the best part was that he didn’t NEED to be loud anymore. Whether or not he would ever be quiet again remained to be seen, but right then, just to know the fact that he could speak, converse, WHISPER, and be HEARD… it was a wonderful thought to think.


End file.
